Even as a child, giant speakers mesmerized me. I grew up listening to countless hours of vinyl and radio through my dad’s shiny silver rack system and its speakers which were easily taller than I for most of my youth that I can remember. Every crackly bit of Zeppelin, Queen, or Van Halen blasted loud and clear; with every social gathering on the patio or out on the deck, these monsters were carted to the windows for the entertainment of many. Coincidentally, this is also when I learned that you’re not supposed to pump the keg, even if it seems really fun.
When my father relocated to the east coast, I was horrified to see that he gave his system to my aunt. Yes, this was his sister, and I was but a 10 year old girl. Nevertheless, those beautiful speakers were trashed by my cousins in record-breaking time; meanwhile, my Smurf radio that I had gotten at age 4 was still in mint condition. Is it wrong to still be bitter about this?
From that point forward, all I ever wanted was a Big Stereo. My first purchase at age 14 was larger than a tabletop system, but not big enough to be a rack. It was a compromise, as I found it absolutely necessary to get one of those new-fangled CD players in my new stereo, yet still have the antiquity of a turntable so as not to waste my vast album collection. Yes, although my father had given my aunt his stereo system, he had given me all of his records. I suppose in the long run, it was much better that way, as I still have every last one of those babies in the same condition in which they were relinquished.
Somewhere along the line, I had more dreams of building a giant stereo. I bought the six-disc changer to add to my existing stereo. Next would be the amp and some really, really big speakers. I could add the tape deck and turntable at will, right? Unfortunately, I believe I underestimated the costs of such a venture; I was in high school, slaving away in the world of fast food, and didn’t even have a car yet.
When I did get that car — a 1985 Chevy Cavalier with more rust than paint — what’s the first upgrade I made to that bad boy? You would be the fool if you didn’t think I ripped out that factory deck to install a nice cassette player. It was lovely; it lit up bright green, it had a digital display, a detachable face, a security blinking light for effect, the whole nine yards. I thought that I was living the crazy life with my mix tapes full of love and destruction. But soon, I would encounter my friend Steve, whose car could be heard two blocks before it actually arrived at my house. I remember choosing CDs to play in his car solely to see if we could completely jiggle our intestinal tracts.
Man, I have never been so jealous in my entire life. I got a newer car and a CD player installed, but still drooled endlessly over Steve’s setup. It was then that I discovered that with the magic of an amplifier and some 12″ subs in a nice box, I too could have the thumping go-mobile of my dreams. Never mind that I was driving a Dodge Spirit, what might be described as the quintessential “grandma car.” Nay, for that would deter thieves who would otherwise be searching Camaros and Mustangs for their high-end systems. It was one quick trip to Sears that brought me back out with a 600 watt amp and a large box of some kind of Sears-like speakers that instantly led me to throw away any idea of trunk storage space, all in the name of the thump.
And thump I did. Nothing in this world is more beautiful than watching your rearview mirror shake so violently that it’s completely useless. I drove past many a police officer without so much as raising an eyebrow due to the sheer nerd value of my car. I played a whole hell of a lot of the first Sneaker Pimps disc and the second Garbage album after its release. In fact, I was listening to Garbage when I tore one of the cones after an especially bad pothole combined with an especially hard-hitting low.
All was well in my pseudo ghetto blaster until coming home from dropping off a friend at the bus station. I was playing God Lives Underwater and passing through an intersection where the shift was changing at an adjacent factory; traffic was backed up, but some idiot left a gap for people to get through the stop sign. The giant pick-up didn’t see me coming down the right-hand lane, and I saw him gun it through the intersection too late. Kerplunk, my car was crunched. My CD skipped, then kept right on thumping. It was later that I discovered this had torn both cones pretty badly, so I used and abused Sears’ extended warranty and traded up for something nicer.
Sadly, that was the last of my vehicles to thump. My next car was an ’89 Pontiac Grand Prix; if you have owned one of those beasts, you would know that it has a square stereo console. There was no changing the deck without some serious dash modification. We tried running the subs off of the rear speakers, but given the non-sophistication that is a factory deck, it sounded too awful for words. The vehicle after that was a ’90 Buick Regal which had the same stupid dash. Had I not gotten that car for free, I would never have taken it. And my current go-mobile has a cursed Bose system, which absolutely hates aftermarket decks, hisses crazy feedback, and happens to also feature a few shorts that have caused me to give up entirely on the prospect of having a functioning stereo of any type to keep me company.
I’m depressed about this. It has been six years since I had a vehicle whose sound system broke laws and eardrums alike. I have never asked for anything super fancy; the beasts from the mall were good enough to keep me happy. I still have the deck from my second car and have no complaints about its operation, although I long since got rid of the amp and subs. I have dreams of starting fresh when I finally purchase an automobile that I trust to do more than get me from my house to the gym and back. Actually, if the stereo in my current vehicle would work as promised, I probably would trust it to get me to the east coast and back. It’s mind over matter. It’s the rumbling hypnosis of bass so ungodly ridiculous that causes me to burst out, Bruce Banner-style.
In the meantime, I have compensated with my computer system. My old desktop stereo has since kicked the bucket; although I deeply mourn the loss of owning an operating turntable, I was more than happy to salvage its midsize speakers and splice them to my computer’s amp. Sporting one of those nifty Audigy 2 audio cards, there is almost no time of the day when music isn’t pouring from the surround system. Still, my current subwoofer is rather unimpressive, and I’m looking to upgrade these speakers once again before I turn my attention to foolish things like “RAM” or “functioning network cards.” If I can’t rock out, the damned thing won’t even get used.
So for all of my failures in creating a car that goes boom or even a computer with the super-swankest of audio environments, at least I scored well on the home theater system. When the lows hit on a DVD and the volume is even less than halfway turned up, the walls vibrate hard. It’s the coolest thing I have ever seen in my entire life: pressing your face against the paneling, wishing there was earthquake insurance in the midwest for this sort of activity, and constantly rewatching anything with a giant explosion or car crash.
For now, I’ll just put a picture of my car on top of my surround system. Yes, dear stereo; at some point, your rumblies will be on four wheels. Preferably, a Volkswagen Cabrio. I’ll throw in the latest by Sunn 0))) and we’ll cause the richter scale to go bananas. Ya dig?
BASS! How low can you go,
–gloomchen
